Do I Wanna Know?
by Army Of Elves
Summary: After a dark past that's left Blaine Anderson scarred and wary of people he leaves a troubled home. Without his parents money to pay for Dalton he transfers to McKinley where he meets Kurt. From there they form an unlikely bond that changes both of their lives in a way they never would have expected. Badboy!Blaine
1. Chapter 1

_Lima General Hospital_

"Well isn't this one precious." A young girl with fake blonde hair said in a high-pitched, baby voice. "Hi! _Hi!_"

The head nurse Carole Hudson rolled her eyes good-naturedly at the woman's typical behavior. The woman was only an intern in the hospital's nursing program, none to experienced. Carole herself had been working at this hospital for years and had a young boy, so she was used to these awestruck reactions. She glanced back to check on the pair. The smile dropped from her face when she realized which child the girl was cooing at, and immediately rushed over.

Too late, the woman had the little baby in her arms. The baby wailed unhappily. The woman was not at all affected by the crying, insisting that she knew how to handle it. Carole pressed her hand to her mouth and stepped back. The blonde held the screaming newborn up: one hand supporting his head and the other cradling his bottom.

"Oh, oh. Shh, shh, shh."

The baby suddenly ceased his crying.

The blonde shot Carole a smug look. "See there-"

With a precision that Carole Hudson had never seen in her life, the baby projectile vomited right on his captor's face. The milky liquid oozed down her face and dripped into her brand new navy nurse's scrubs. The woman stood there in shock, her face unpleasantly puckered in disgust. Carole quickly took the baby away. She used a soft cloth to dab the spittle from the corners of his mouth, then gently placed him back in his crib.

Carole had been the one to help deliver this little guy the night before. He had proven a handful from before he was even born. The way he'd been positioned in the mother's uterus hadn't called for a C-section, but it still had made it difficult to get him out. When he finally did arrive, he was a little underweight yet seemingly healthy, but had refused to cry at all. Now crying was all he did, especially when someone went near.

Without a word the blonde lady rushed out of the nursery and ran to the nearest bathroom.

Around the room many of the other nurses paused their work and stared. A few gathered around, staring at the small child in wide wonder. Under their scrutinizing eyes the child began crying again and harder.

"Don't crowd him." Carole cautioned the others.

The newest intern, a petite blonde from the south, peeked into the crib. "What devil child is this?"

Another girl reached for the blue information tag hanging from the bars, she read aloud, "Blaine-"

"Anderson?"

All of them turned around. Their eyes met a hopeful looking young man standing in the doorway, a young child peeking behind his legs. They shared looks.

"Uh-oh." Blaine Anderson's big brother Cooper giggled.

* * *

_Sixteen Years Later..._

The bright late-summer sun peaked through dark curtains, illuminating a disheveled teenage boy with light brown hair sticking out in various directions. The boy dragged his hand up the other side of the mattress. Finding nothing there it stilled and its owner groggily slid into a sitting position.

"Baby?"

Across the room a dim light emitted from an open door. From inside a boy with curly hair poked his head out, a toothbrush hanging limply from his mouth. The boy's triangular eyebrows lifted when he caught sight of the other boy now awake. The head disappeared back into the bathroom, followed by the sound of spitting then a running faucet. Moments later he stepped out of the bathroom, humming softly.

"Good, you're awake." He said, walking over to an old dresser. "Now get out."

The brunette still sitting in the bed went slack-jawed. "But, what? Baby-"

"I'm not your baby." Was his flat reply, then he began picking up the articles of clothing strewn about at random and tossed them at the no longer welcome guest. The clothes might have been either of theirs; it didn't matter, so long as Ben (a name he called all of his one night stands) had his ass moving.

'Ben' was given enough time to put his pants back on, then he was being unceremoniously shoved through the house and out the front door, still clutching a bundle of clothes. Without a second thought the door was slammed in his face.

Blaine rubbed his eyes with his palms and sagged against the door in relief. That one had been a weird one, picked up at a sketchy bar in west Lima and taken home with Blaine on his motorcycle without a second's thought. Clingers like this always made Blaine question his choices... in the end, however, he always bit back those uneasy feelings and continued making the same mistakes, though Blaine would be hard pressed to admit them mistakes.

He walked back to his room, tugging his dirty shirt over his head. When he walked past the window he glanced out. Ben had finally left the porch and was walking off, but not before hocking a loogie on his Harley as he passed by. Blaine smirked. The asshole would have a nice long walk home if he lived anywhere near where he was picked up. As he began to get dressed the guy was quickly driven from his mind; he was no longer his problem.

Blaine Anderson was seen by others as a hellion, a troublemaker_. _Maybe he was. He wasn't concerned with labels. To him he was just a guy, a little down on his luck in some aspects, that tried to enjoy life all the while doing what he had to survive. He had left home at sixteen. Left, kicked out, driven away, however it happened he was gone.

His life as a bachelor with no parents breathing down his neck was going on three months. He had a trust fund from his deceased grandparents and a small bank account that he rarely touched, and then was working a steady, legal job at some family owned shop... as far as his older brother was concerned. So he had been fired not even a month into the job. He didn't need that place with its obnoxious customers and greasy air. There were other means of quick money if it ever came to that. Other than that, Blaine spent the rest of his time emerging himself in music and finding warm bodies for the night.

It was almost the ideal life for a teenage boy. Sure it was lonely sometimes, increasingly so over past months, and he missed the days before he had this ridiculous image and lifestyle to maintain... Still, it was better than being suffocated by family or a boyfriend that he absolutely did not want. He hated being suffocated, and there were many rules set in place to keep that from happening. One such rule was the 'out before the sun comes up' policy for one night stands. That morning had been a little slow in that department, but at least everything was back on track.

Once glance at the old alarm clock on the bedside table sent Blaine scurrying. Thanks to the previous night's activities he was off schedule. There wasn't time to carefully plan out an outfit, not that he cared enough to do that anymore anyway, and doing something with his unruly hair was really out of the question. So random clothes it was. Blaine threw on the first thing he found, which happened to be a plain black shirt, dark jeans, and boots. Then he grabbed his old backpack and rushed out.

"Bye Coop!" He called as he slammed the front door behind himself.

The batty old lady from next door was on the other side of the chain-link fence yelling profanities at a tree stump. She had been diagnosed with Dementia awhile back and her family had abandoned her. After she really became crazy many of the neighbors left. The property value on his own house was lowered as few others had been willing to buy next to a crazy lady, making the rent much more affordable. Thinking about her situation sometimes made him sad, but that was life.

Today would be Blaine's first day back at public school since the ninth grade. The hope was that he could make it on time for the occasion. It was the first day... of the second week of school.

It would be the last time he ever brought someone home on a school night, he swore to himself.

Ten minutes after leaving the house his Harley was skidding to a halt in the parking lot of Lima's newest coffee house, cleverly named The Lima Bean. He'd only recently began the habit of drinking coffee as a pick me up, particularly after nights like the last.

The place was a nice looking, low-key family type business a few miles down from the local high school. Surprisingly, not many people paid his appearance much mind as he got in the small line. He managed to catch the eye of a barista working the cash register and threw her flirty looks and winks while he waited. By the time he made it to the front and placed his order the poor girl was redder than a tomato and had possibly wet herself.

"Medium d-drip?" The girl stuttered.

Blaine glanced around: the other employees were busy and there were no other customers behind himself. He casually leaned against the counter and turned up the charming factor, then began shamelessly flirting with the girl. Bless her soul, the barista took the attractive bad boy in stride and kept up with the banter, going so far as to flip her hair and bat her lashes. After five minutes Blaine glanced at his watch and _remorsefully _announced his leave. The girl made clear her disappointment, but allowed him to slip away with his unpaid for coffee.

Once she realized what had happened - if ever she did - she would probably hate him. That didn't matter - it _never_ mattered. In fact, he'd already forgotten the color of those eyes that he'd just spent about three-hundred seconds pretending to stare into. The odds were he would never see her again. There were hundreds of other coffee shops and baristas to be played. If the girl was fired because of him then perhaps she would learn a valuable lesson on professionalism and stop objectifying customers.

Predictably, everyone stared at him from the moment he killed the engine in the school parking lot. In the hallways they parted like the red sea, watching him with fear and ill disguised curiosity. After a quick trip to the main offices to pick up a schedule and locker information, he went around searching for the English hall. On the way there he took in his new surroundings. As far as he was concerned it appeared to be your typical public school: unimpressive, dirty, chaotic. The change from private school wasn't totally unwelcome. So far he'd already seen one flamboyantly dressed boy get doused in an icy concoction of red dye number six, a ridiculously disproportionate couple making out, and an _actual line _of people waiting to get tossed into a dumpster.

He might have been suprised by the last one if not for the countless stories he'd heard from former classmates that had once walked these halls.

It seemed that what McKinley lacked in integrity it certainly made up for in depravity. The next three years would never be boring, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt Elizabeth Hummel - _No, really_. That was his actual name_ - _was _the _enigma of William McKinley High School.

Since beginning school there Blaine had spent a lot of time observing the boy. He never said anything because that would be, well, creepy. Not that watching him wasn't.

Kurt was average height, though his carefully coiffed hair gave him an extra few inches. His frame wasn't scrawny nor was he overtly muscular, rather he had a slender build that was often hidden behind layers of clothing. His eyes were a watery mixture of grey, blue, and blue.

However, it wasn't so much his physical appearance that made Blaine wish he could read minds. It was his personality, his attitude, that made Blaine the slightest bit desperate to try to understand what was going through his head. While it was quite entertaining watching him verbally spar with McKinley's worst and most idiotic, he must have been a lunatic to do so. At certain points in the day, almost like clockwork Kurt could be found either being body-checked, slushied, thrown into a dumpster, or whatever the flavor of the week was - pun intended, when it came to the slushies one could never predict what color they'd be painted. Moments later Kurt would be seen picking himself up off the ground or fishing his bag out of the garbage with the same bitchy, disgusted look, yet still kicking. Then Kurt was always waltzing around school wearing crazy, elaborate outfits, many of which looked physically exhausting. No matter how many times he got thrown in a dumpster or slushied (an annoyingly popular past time there) he simply brushed himself off or changed into another ridiculous outfit and walked on.

What further amazed Blaine was how much these jocks, Dave Karofsky in particular, seemed to hate him. Not just your typical teenage angst, but really _hate _him. What a scrawny glee club dork did to them to warrant such hostility was mind-boggling.

However interesting Blaine found it, he rarely talked to anyone often enough to find out why.

In the classes he and Kurt shared they had only crossed paths a few times; as it was the extent of their communication was a few furtive glances thrown across the room during the first few weeks, then the one time they were paired up for a French lesson. After the teacher assigned partners Hummel had slowly approached him, fear and wariness in his eyes. Eventually he must have realized that Blaine wouldn't try anything and they were able to finish the assignment with minimal conversation. During the exchange Blaine had been mildly surprised that Kurt's voice really was that high-pitched all of the time. That was the end of their social interactions during the first weeks of the semester.

. . .

The rule that he had set in place at the beginning of the year had been thoughtlessly broken when he took a guy home the previous night. The guy immediately left afterwards, but come morning Blaine was left with a raging headache and an ever familiar dull ache in the pit of his stomach. During his daily coffee run he had been unable to dupe the barista as it had been a buff, very straight male. It was a very real possibility that the guy was on steroids, so Blaine didn't even think about trying his normal nonsense.

Blaine sat in the back of first period clutching his throbbing head. A few of his fellow classmates sent him knowing looks that he pointedly ignored.

_Bang!_

The teacher slammed the door shut. The noised seemed to resonate throughout the room, increased tenfold by the hangover.

"Good morning class!" She chirped, walking over to the front. "It seems that it's that time of the year again."

A collective groan followed the statement.

"That's right, assigned seating."

Blaine gingerly lifted his head from his arms and glanced around the room, sizing up the potentials. His eyes leapt from person to person.

Stoner Brett in all of his smelly, tripping glory. Mike Chang. Brittany_, _who had somehow managed to get into an advanced class. A creepy blonde that was staring at Blaine, making him cringe and turn away. Hummel.

His eyes bounced back to the blonde who gave a little wave. He shuddered.

The teacher split them into pairs alphabetically, beginning with _'Z'_. In the end, he was the odd man out. This suited him just fine. He gathered his things and traipsed back to the lonely desk in the far corner.

Throughout the rest of the day most the other classes instituted a new seating chart as well. For whatever reason Blaine always ended up by himself. It was a cruel metaphor to his life: always alone and immediately given up on. He made a point to think about it too hard, the headache was taking too long to dissipate for him to care about much else anyway.

He slumped out of history and ploughed through the masses, taking a detour to his locker before going to French (the school had managed to screw up his schedule and he wasn't about to go through getting it fixed, not this late in the semester). The crowd no longer parted for him. Over recent weeks his red alert status had subsided into a mindful yellow, warning people to remain vigilant, but acknowledging that he wasn't an imminent threat. The lack of action on his part kept them from cowering in fear - that was left to the jocks.

Speaking of which: Diagonally across the hall from his locker Karofsky had Hummel backed against the wall, his large figuring looming over him and his fist raised near Kurt's face. They were locked in a battle of wits and Karofsky was losing. Kurt verbally slammed Karofsky while the jock struggled to mentally keep up. It quickly ended with Karofsky getting annoyed with their little game and forcefully shoving Kurt. The only adult around was the Spanish/glee club teacher Mr. Shue, but he didn't see it because his vision was blocked by an angry Sue Sylvester.

Blaine watched Karofsky walk away. Kurt slumped to the floor in a dejected heap. Something inside Blaine's chest tugged painfully. Maybe it was the familiarity of it, otherwise it was indigestion. With a huff, Blaine closed the locker and crossed the hall, stopping a little away from Kurt.

* * *

Kurt's eyes opened at the sound of approaching feet. He took in the dark leather of a pair of combat boots and thought that it was Puck, then his eyes trailed up and met a pair of unfamiliar honey eyes. Blaine Anderson. He wore his normal bored expression, only his expressive eyes gave away hints of pity. In his left hand he dangled Kurt's messenger bag that had skidded across the floor when he was pushed. The gesture shocked him.

When he first transferred the second week of school everyone had assumed that he was the new Noah Puckerman who had, in their eyes, gone soft. Blaine proved them all wrong by generally keeping to himself, then over time fading into the background. Even though now he wasn't seen as a threat he still held the bad boy title. Kurt didn't have his own opinions on the guy as they had only spoken once. From this point of view Blaine Anderson didn't seem so bad boy.

He had on dark jeans tucked into heavy boots, a plain white t-shirt, and his iconic black leather jacket to top it off. His dark curly hair hung over his eyes; ever since he'd transferred it had gone from shaved to where it could now be considered an afro. And of course, there was the bar through a thick eyebrow, the stud on his right earlobe, and the tiny hoop through his lip... So he actually was very much 'bad boy', but certainly not so much a hooligan or a bully. He donned the costume, but other than that there wasn't anything overtly terrifying about him, even from where he was looming over Kurt. Unlike when in the presence of Karofsky or some of the other jocks there wasn't an air of fear or hatred. It was just another guy.

The shock must have shown on his face. Blaine rolled his eyes and dropped the bag heavily in Kurt's lap. Rather than offer a hand up - not that Kurt expected him to - he squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Hummel," He sighed. "Do yourself a favor and stay down."

Before Kurt could reply Blaine stood and walked away.

. . .

Kurt stomped into the French classroom, ten minutes late, and made a beeline to Blaine's desk in the back. Blaine hadn't noticed him walk in and remained slumped in his chair, picking his fingernails boredly. He didn't even blink when Kurt slammed his palms down on the desk.

"What is your problem?"

"Okay class," The teacher said, looking up from her papers. She noticed Kurt standing. "Mr. Hummel, please take your seat."

Blood pulsed so loudly in Kurt's ears that he didn't hear her. "Answer me!" He demanded.

Raising a pierced eyebrow, Blaine sat up straight. "You annoy me."

"You've never even talked to me!"

Their raised voices began to attract the attention of everyone in the room.

"Class, pay attention! Mr. Hummel! Mr. Anderson! You can continue this after my class."

Everyone ignored her.

"You know I haven't done anything, right?"

Kurt opened his mouth to respond but the teacher had made her way to them and grabbed his arm tightly.

"If you weren't usually so good, you'd be in a months worth of detention - both of you! Now sit." She directed toward Kurt.

With one last glare Kurt turned on his heel and walked to his own seat. From across the room he could practically feel Blaine's smirk on him. The teacher continued her class normally, and per usual the students ignored her. This time in favor of whispering about what had just occurred.

When only ten minutes were left, the teacher wrapped up the lesson and turned off the overhead.

"Thanks to a certain disagreement," Her eyes flicked between the offending boys, "I forgot to assign the seating chart."

As the second to last class for the day, nobody even bothered protesting anymore.

I turned out the teacher had drawn up a seating chart at random, so who Kurt would be stuck by for the remainder of the semester was anyone's guess. As she named off students he became increasingly nervous. He ended up being one of the last in a group that consisted of Azimio Adams, a soccer player named Dillon Smith, and Blaine. Dillon was then placed at the table in front of the teacher's desk while Kurt was sent to the very back. He tried not to pout too much about it, but he knew he was already screwed.

"Kurt Hummel, I was going to have you next to Azimio. But I have a better idea." She said. "Blaine Anderson. Here, please."

Kurt's wide eyes followed the delinquent's journey across the room to the chair to his right.

"Let's see if we can't resolve our issues, hmm?" She gave them a pointed look that clearly meant, _'Behave.' _and then announced the remainder of the hour as free time.

For five minutes neither said anything. Blaine was bent over a notebook, doodling something, and Kurt stared at the opposite wall with crossed arms.

Blaine shoved the notebook away. "I was giving you some sage advice there."

Kurt jumped a little at the unexpected voice and swiveled toward Blaine, eyeing him warily. Blaine's eyes were staring straight ahead. Kurt might have thought someone else had spoken, but though he'd only heard it a handful of times Blaine's smooth voice wasn't something he could easily mistake.

"It would do you good to listen." Blaine finally looked at him. "You're welcome."

Since the beginning of the class period he'd calmed down a good deal, but rage flared up in him again. "And what would you have me do?"

Without getting out of it, Blaine picked his chair up and turned it toward Kurt, giving him his full attention. Kurt got the impression that Blaine had spent the past class period thinking this over and waiting for him to ask.

"You have two options: I'd love to tell you to try blending in," He smiled wryly. "But I know for you perky, glee club types that can be difficult."

Kurt would have been offended had that not been so true.

"Or," Blaine continued. "You could refuse to be the victim." The rest of his face remained impassive, but his eyes were so deep and bewitching it made Kurt forget to be angry.

"How?"

"Call them out," Blaine made a sweeping gesture, indicating some of the jocks in the room. "Confront _him_."

Blaine didn't have to explicitly say who he was talking about; he clearly meant Karofsky. Kurt blushed. He had figured the guy was smart enough to deduct how he'd ended up on the floor, still he'd been hoping that Blaine hadn't actually witnessed it happening. He wondered if Blaine had also noticed all of the other times. On the off chance that he did, why choose now to say anything? Then again, today had probably been happenstance; a freak encounter. Why would a guy like Blaine take interest in Kurt?

Kurt wouldn't get to ask any of these questions today because Blaine was speaking again, "Instead of coming after me, you could have gone for hammer hawk and bashed in his overly waxed eyebrows... If those toothpick arms are up for the challenge." He tapped Kurt's bare arm with his pen. Kurt flicked it away, sending it skidding across the floor, then jerked the sleeve of his cardigan down self-consciously. Blaine's stare made him uncomfortably turn away and begin packing his things.

"I don't condone violence. It doesn't solve anything."

"My last two problems beg to differ."

"I don't care. I won't resort to it." Kurt said firmly.

"Then my suggestion," Blaine got to his feet and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Join the track team."

Kurt stood as well, and followed him to the door. "Why?"

Blaine abruptly turned, making Kurt stumble a few steps backward. "Because you're going to spend the rest of your life running." Overhead the bell that signaled the end of the period chimed. Blaine didn't wait for a reply and walked away, leaving Kurt frozen in the doorway. Kurt watched him disappear into the crowded hallway.

"Kurt, don't forget your notebook." The teacher indicated toward the table he'd just vacated. Lying on top of it was the same one Blaine had been drawing on.

"Oh, that's not mine. That belongs to..." The name on the corner of the cover caught his eye. "Me?"

He picked it up. It was indeed his sketch pad, the one that was supposed to be safety tucked away at the bottom of his bag. His blood boiled as he flipped through each page searching for signs of vandalism. The nerve of -

"Oh."

On the very last page in big letters the word 'Courage' was printed neatly in ballpoint pen.

. . .

The next day shaped up to be equally as awful as the previous one before the first bell even rang.

That week must have been a record for Kurt. With the exception of earlier in the year when his dad was in a coma, never in his life had it felt like the world was actually out to get him. Kurt thought about all of the things he must have done in a previous lifetime to warrant being tossed in garbage, while he brushed said contents off of himself. He had been so close to making it into the school without incident when a band of Neanderthals picked him up from behind and pulled him off his feet, then dropped him in a dumpster and left. He had been on time, but now there was no way he would make it to class before the final bell.

Kurt pulled himself out of the trash and walked toward the school. While walking he shed his filthy outer jacket. Without it there was little need for further clean up.

Up until then he'd been on a roll. The glee clubbers hadn't suffered a single slushy facial or been dumpster diving in weeks; those torturous activities had simply gone out of style. The only bullying had been pushing and taunts, most of which came from Karofsky, and all of which were directed at Kurt alone.

Inside the school the halls were empty and quiet. After a trip to his locker to drop off the jacket Kurt was finally on his way to first period, taking his time. The quiet was suddenly broken by the sound of rapid footsteps and a swish. Kurt turned around just in time for the contents of a large cup to be emptied in his face. Freezing red liquid dripped down into his shirt and onto a puddle on the floor. By the time he wiped it from his eyes the culprit was gone.

Apparently slushies were back in season as well.

. . .

With less than half an hour to spare, Kurt trudged into Math. He took the assignment from the teacher and passed his seat up in favor of going to the back of the classroom. He disregarded any feelings the last desk's occupant may have had about his company and sat down.

"How was the dumpster?" Blaine asked nonchalantly, continuing to copy down an equation from the board.

Kurt looked at him. "How did you-"

"It's the second Wednesday of the month, which means," Blaine flicked his pen in the direction of the window. "Trash day." Kurt's eyes followed Blaine's out the window where the dumpsters were in full view.

Without missing a beat Kurt deadpanned, "Soft as a pillow. I had a nice little nap."

He was happy when the lights dimmed; they effectively hid the heat that was spreading all the way down to his neck.

Blaine had seen him pushed around and endure the countless other tortures he was put through. Having his morning dumpster dive added to that list was absolutely mortifying, not to mention painful - there was a nice big gash on his side where a piece of glass had cut him. He made a mental note to clean it up and sterilize it when he got home.

Blaine leaned over sideways, his eyes glued to teacher, and said from the corner of his mouth, "No one else saw."

Kurt spent the little time left in the class period ignoring the strange tickling sensation on his left arm and mechanically taking notes while his mind kept going to the Karofsky problem and his Blaine solution. All he'd been able to think about the previous night was Blaine's advice. The mere thought of actually confronting Karofsky, and not just verbally sparring with him, was nerve-racking to say the least.

"What do I do?" He blurted.

Blaine started and hastily shoved a sharpie pen into his bag looking guilty. Kurt ignored it and continued to look at him beseechingly.

Blaine shrugged. "Confront them like you confronted me yesterday."

At nine o'clock the final bell rang and everyone left quickly, including Blaine. Kurt was the last one out, still contemplating what he should say, if anything at all.

. . .

_Confront them_. Easier said than done.

He couldn't even stand up to the people he called friends. Now he was lost in Ohio's very own Hogwarts almost two hours from home. Dozens of students tragically clad in red and blue blazers maneuvered around each other in every direction easily. Of course it was easy: they belonged there and knew where they were going.

A few minutes previously Kurt had managed to get stuck in a group of private school boys, all with a mission to get somewhere quickly. It was by sheer luck that they happened to be going to an impromptu performance put on by the Warblers. When they made it to the senior commons, he assumed from what he gathered from the boys' excited chattering, he slipped in with them and was able to get a spot near the door.

Now that he was where he was supposed to be he was able to breathe and take in his surroundings. Being stuck in a small room full of boys that actually attended Dalton made Kurt fully realize how mistaken he was when he thought he would be able to blend in with a simple red tie and bondage shorts. To put it simply: He stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet nobody paid him much mind; they were all preoccupied.

In the middle of the room a small group of boys standing in a circle with their heads bowed and hands clasped began harmonizing. Slowly the boys moved out of the circle to reveal a brunette boy and then formed a line on either side of him.

_The sun goes down_

_The stars come out_

_And all that counts is here and now_

_My universe will never be the same_

_I'm glad you came, I'm glad you came_

The Warbler's heads shot up and their a'capella tune became much livelier. Suddenly the doors burst open and a dozen more boys, all singing, ran into the room displaying various dance moves and jumps on their way to the rest of the group. Everyone in the room cheered at that.

Rather than allowing himself to get sucked into the performance, Kurt carefully watched the group.

While the beginning of the song had been very energetic with lots of dancing and jumping around on everyone's part, about halfway through just a little of the enthusiasm died down and it showed. It became clear that while very good singers, the Warblers were still a typical stool choir and tired easily. At the end of the song the Warblers were standing in a neat line looking much the same as when they began, if sweatier. The room burst into raucous applause.

Instead of leaving under the cover of the chaos Kurt stayed where he was and eventually everyone calmed down and began pushing tables and chairs back to their original places.

A tall boy with platinum blonde hair that stuck up everywhere slipped into the room looking flushed. He was the first to notice Kurt to his knowledge, but he didn't stop so Kurt wasn't bothered by it. Only a few other people noticed the blonde addition and watched him cross the room while giving him looks of thinly veiled exasperation.

The lead singer heard them and turned around. When he caught sight of the boy he smirked and called, "I'm glad _you came, _Sterling."

Their friends rolled their eyes and gave them disgusted looks, but didn't say anything.

The blonde boy with the crazy hair sidled up next to the lead singer. Rather than making a show of flirting back the he tilted his head to the side and whispered something to him. The lead singer's head shot up and looked directly at Kurt. Kurt's eyes widened as he realized that he'd been caught. Instead of trying to make a run for it as he probably should have, he looked down at his feet and awaited his retribution. He only looked up when two pairs of shoes shuffled up to him. It was the blonde and a round faced boy who had sang backup during the performance. They didn't look very menacing - in fact, they were smiling at him.

"Do you like coffee?" The round faced Warbler asked brightly.

. . .

Ten minutes later Kurt found himself sitting at another part of the school sitting at a round table, fresh latte in hand.

"It's very civilized for you to invite me for coffee before you beat me up for spying."

"We are not going to beat you up." Trent said incredulously. "Who do you take us for, Fight Club?"

Jeff kicked him under the table, and then looked at Kurt seriously. "We're not beating you up. Maybe give you tips, because I spotted you in like, five seconds flat."

"I'm curious," Trent said. "Why did the New Directions send you?"

Kurt didn't even bother asking how they knew who he was. After all, Rachel did post all of their performances on MySpace, YouTube, and Facebook.

"Yeah, I get it I'm a terrible spy." Kurt sighed. "It wasn't the New Directions that sent me. Just Puck and my stepbrother. They just wanted me to leave so the boys could put together a less gay performance for glee club." Kurt gasped at what he had just said and clapped a hand over his mouth. He'd really put his foot in it now. Trent's eyebrows were raised high and Jeff wouldn't even look at him, instead his eyes were staring down into his lap. They sat in awkward silence. Trent's eyebrows went back to normal and Jeff finally glanced at him, but he'd prefer both of them to look at something else.

"You rang?" The lead singer from earlier appeared at the doorway. One look at Kurt and his look of confusion morphed into understanding. He strode over to the table and took a seat to Jeff's left. "Nick Duval." He said, holding out a hand.

Kurt took it cautiously. "Kurt Hummel."

"Pleased to meet you."

Jeff intertwined his and Nick's fingers on top of the table and smiled at him coyly. They might have been having a laugh, but the heart eyes were so genuine and tooth decayingly sweeet. Kurt finally understood.

Still he had to put his foot in his mouth again and say, "Is everyone gay here?"

They laughed.

"Oh God, now I'm imagining gay Hogwarts." Trent chuckled.

"No." Nick said to Kurt. "Well, we - Trent, Jeff, and myself - are, but most of the others have girlfriends."

Though he no longer had anything to fear his heart was still beating fast causing the room to seem hotter than it really was. He pushed his sleeves up. Glancing down, he noticed black ink standing out against his pale skin. The memory of Blaine's weird behavior in first period resurfaced. He pushed down the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Blaine would write _courage _on him in sharpie without his permission.

Though the temporary tattoo was annoying and potentially cancer causing, like the doodle in his sketchbook it him feel better. Stronger.

"You go to McKinley right?" Trent asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. Kurt nodded. "Thought so. Not a very nice place is it?"

Kurt looked at him bewildered.

"Both Trent and I went to McKinley our freshman year." Nick explained. "Hated that place. There was this one guy, made it his life's goal to ruin mine when he found out I was gay. I didn't last a semester before I came here. I had been looking into Dalton months before that though."

The three Warblers looked at him expectantly.

"I'm the only out kid there anymore. There's this Neanderthal who's made it his mission to make me miserable and nobody - except maybe one person - seems to notice." It was suprising how easily that came out.

"That's rough." Nick said sympathetically. "And if I'm being honest, there really isn't much you can do, other than make sure you have a good support system and talk to them about it."

Kurt's face fell. He'd figured as much. The rules at McKinley simply weren't strong or imposing enough to be very effective.

Trent held out his phone to Kurt. "Give me your number and if there's ever anything you need, feel free."

After Kurt put his number into Trent's phone the Jeff and Nick handed him their's to do the same. Once they all had exchanged phone numbers they offered to show Kurt out. Happy to not have to find his own way back to his car, he accepted.

While they walked back through the school they made small conversation about much lighter subjects and Kurt was grateful for it, it took his mind off things for just a little while.

"Courage." Trent said, staring at Kurt's forearm. Kurt looked down at the words and rubbed them lightly. "Interesting concept."

"Oh, no. My," Kurt struggled to find a word that appropriately described his relationship with Blaine. "Um, friend, did that with a marker."

"A special friend?" Trent prompted with flirtatious wink.

Kurt laughed. "No. Like I said, only gay kid I know."

Trent grinned broadly. "Not anymore. Now you know three."

"We should all hang out sometime. We can discuss our fabulous lifestyles." Jeff joked.

The other two rolled their eyes goodnaturedly.

"Or we could go get coffee and talk about the rumored revival of Rent?" Kurt suggested.

"Fair enough. Text us a and we'll meet up sometime."

Kurt got into his Navigator and pulled out of the massive Dalton parking lot. As he drove out the gates he saw three boys waving him away through the rearview mirror.

. . .

The next day in math Kurt sat in the back again. This time it wasn't because of a bad day, yesterday had actually turned out surprisingly well, but simply because he wanted to.

"You weren't in class after lunch yesterday." Blaine observed.

"I wasn't."

Blaine looked at him expecting an answer.

"I had a thing that I had to do during school hours, that the teachers and my parents may not have known about."

"You skipped class." Blaine said simply. Kurt nodded. "I guess if I'm that bad of an influence, maybe you should go back to Brett. He's looking a little lonely over there."

"No." Kurt glanced at the ginger, who was attempting to smell his own shoe. "I'll take my chances over here if that means I don't have to smell the stench of homelessness. I can't take the smell."

"And how do I smell - in comparison?" Blaine rested his cheek in his fist and looked at him with bright, puppy eyes.

_Amazing, _Kurt couldn't help but think.

Even with the distance between them he could smell leather and raspberries; the scent invaded his senses and made it hard to think.

Rather than tell Blaine that he said, "I'm not answering that."

"Fair enough."

Kurt bit his lip. "I just hope I won't be forcefully removed."

If he was forced to move back over to Brett he might just fall to his knees and beg for mercy.

Blaine's lips twitched. "I think the teacher will give you a pass on this one."

They turned and watched as the Mrs. Terri approached Brett with a crinkled nose and informed him that it was not acceptable to put his bare feet on the table. This caused both boys to snicker.

After that Blaine actually initiated a conversation about the revival of Rent that was coming to Westerville in a month. Kurt was surprised but happily kept up the conversation. By the end of the hour they were talking about Kurt's dad's tire shop, after having been through multiple subjects. It supports Kurt how easy and natural it was talking to the other boy.

Blaine appeared scary and unapproachable, he often had a bad attitude, and he took advantage of people, but he was a good guy. Kurt hoped that Blaine wouldn't just grow bored of him one day. Blaine made him want to be brave and fight his own battles. He gave him hope in a place full of negativity and hate. If a bad boy and show choir gleek could accept each other despite their differences maybe everyone else could too.

Later that day when Karofsky slammed him against a locker something broke inside of him and he didn't think twice about running after him, Nick's advice be damned. He wanted to face his demons like a man.

Unfortunately fate threw him a curve ball that wasn't anticipated. Karofsky was gay and Kurt thought he was probably going to be traumatized for the rest of his life.

. . .

When Kurt woke up Thursday morning all he wanted to do was lie there forever, especially when he remembered the events of the locker room. Finn had to literally drag him out of bed so they could get to school on time. He hadn't had the energy to pick out an outfit the night before and threw on dark jeans and a button up. He had then been horrified to notice that he and Finn looked like they had coordinated their outfits to match.

He shuffled into first period with bags under his eyes and hair sticking up.

"Lookin' good Hummel." Blaine commented when he sat down.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"How did it go?" Blaine asked, disregarding his question. Seeing the expression on Kurt's face Blaine's feigned cheerful disposition disappeared and was replaced by a more serious expression. "It's all over the school that you and Karofsky had an, ah, altercation."

Kurt blanched. "He said that?"

Kurt felt uneasy at Blaine's concern for the subject. Somebody had obviously said something if that was the gossip. Whatever Blaine had heard must have been proven right judging by how quickly his face was turning darker.

"Someone saw you follow him into the locker room yesterday. They wanted to know from Dave what happened in there." Blaine paused, seeming to decide whether he should continue. He finally sighed, then said in a low voice, "A few of them were evidently worried whether he was still straight."

Kurt held back a cringe. Vivid memories of the day before came flooding back, he had to focus on his breathing until he was able to calm down enough to push them from his mind. Blaine was too busy frowning at the desk to notice. "I heard them in the hallway this morning. Karofsky looked really freaked out when they mentioned it. It was weird."

"He's probably just afraid he'll catch the gay." Kurt lied. He was so angry that he didn't even bother considering Blaine might be homophobic.

Like the Warbler's Blaine didn't react horribly as was expected. Instead, he looked at him sympathetically.

. . .

It shouldn't have been a hard decision. Kurt should have been able to take one look at Karofsky and realize that Nick was right. All he could do in this situation was avoid the problem and rely on his support system. But where was his support system now? Finn and Rachel were fighting in the choir room, while Quinn jealously watched. Artie was playing parole officer for Puck. Santana and Brittany were nowhere to be found. Mercedes was sick. Tina and Mike were too busy in an empty classroom. It wasn't their fault that they had lives outside of babysitting him, so he just had to accept that in that moment he didn't have an available support system.

Even though following Blaine's advice didn't turn out so great the last time, he didn't want to back down just yet. He didn't blame the Warbler's for being safely tucked away at Dalton. If he had that opportunity he would take it without a second thought. Kurt wasn't at Dalton where the normal rules of survival didn't apply. At McKinley it was fight or flight, and he was sick of running.

This was no longer just about him either. Dave Karofsky was gay and obviously very confused. There were no excuses for his behavior, but Kurt thought that maybe if he talked to him he could help him. Kurt realized that confronting him didn't mean things had to get physical, they could talk things out maturely. If that worked then so many problems at the school could be solved for at least two people, if not more.

He would try to talk to Dave during lunch.

* * *

Kurt never showed up to French. His absence made Blaine's stomach lurch unpleasantly.

He supposed the only reason he cared about Kurt at all was because he had been in a similar situation not so long ago. After all that he had been through it seemed like he didn't care about anything at all, and often times it was hard to find reasons to, but he didn't want to see anyone else fall in the dark place he had. He knew Kurt was going through a lot and that he didn't let on how badly it was affecting him. Blaine had, in his mind, already screwed up his own life with the help of a lot of horrible people. He felt that even though he hadn't even made it to seventeen yet, he was already done. He never wanted someone as innocent as Kurt to feel like that. So when Kurt missed another class it was worrisome.

During chemistry he began to grow more restless and distracted himself by guzzling down water and fidgeting a lot. By the time the class was over his bladder was about to burst. He rushed into the nearest bathroom to relieve himself.

He was washing his hands at the sink when he heard a quiet sniffling in one of the stalls. Curiosity overtook him. The stall hadn't been locked and so the door gave easily. Kurt was slumped against the handicap rails, wiping his dripping nose with a wad of toilet paper. When he pushed the door all the way open Kurt startled, making Blaine jolt a little himself.

"Oh God, not you." Kurt groaned quietly and brushed past him.

Blaine caught sight of a bruise on his cheek. "Hey, hey. Kurt, look at me." He reached a gentle hand up by Kurt's purple cheek, but Kurt jerked out of the way. Blaine immediately dropped it.

"Please, just not now." Kurt said sharply, though he didn't appear to be angry with him, just embarrassed and a little in shock. So Blaine stepped back and allowed him to brush past and out the door.

Blaine's lips parted as he continued to stare at the spot Kurt had just vacated long after he was gone. It was a knotting feeling in his stomach that finally brought him back to reality. His jaw tightened and a hot flash struck his chest, rapidly expanding and filling his limbs with a fire where for so long there had only been ice. He slammed his fist down on the door and let his head rest next to it.

Even though he hadn't owed Kurt anything when he started giving advice and it was Kurt's own discretion that he chose to follow it, he felt responsible. He felt that it was his harebrained advice that put Kurt in a bad situation. It was easy to forget that not everyone was as gung ho as he was and that not everyone could hold their own in a fight if it led to that.

Eventually he left the bathroom still fuming. His frustration was further increased when he saw a McKinley Titans Letterman jacket. He didn't know who the jacket belonged to, but he did know whose fist was imprinted on Kurt's face. And Blaine swore that that person would pay for it.


	3. Chapter 3

A little over a month passed after the Karofsky debacle and somewhere along the way Kurt and Blaine became unlikely friends.

In the two classes they had together they sat together in the back and talked. Kurt was delighted to find that despite their outward differences and seemingly opposite personalities, they actually had a lot in common. And if Kurt ever bored Blaine with his rants on the goings on amongst the glee club or the latest news in gay marriage, the boy never showed it.

During those class periods he learned that Blaine enjoyed music, was a huge Buckeyes fan, and that he had a secret aptitude when it came to politics and government. Blaine also mentioned an estranged older brother and implied that he lived alone. Every tiny detail Kurt learned about him made him that much more intrigued and fall just a little more in love, which in turn made him feel guilty about practically hiding their friendship from his other friends.

Many of them still saw Blaine as a threat. To them the boots, leather jacket, piercings, and motorcycle screamed _bad boy: avoid at all costs. _Even though he never really did anything he still had a bad rap based mostly on looks and occasional attitude. Kurt often forgot about Blaine's reputation and appearance, and on occasion when he was forced to remember he wondered if it wasn't all a pretense.

Then there was the Warblers. Since that fateful day where he'd been caught spying they had hung out and texted each other. On several occasions he'd met many of the other members of the group, including their council. Most of them were decent guys and quickly accepted Kurt, even their uptight leader Wes.

In life things were finally starting to look up. Burt and Carole had recently been married at a beautiful ceremony, Finn was starting to truly become like a brother, the bullying had lessened greatly, his crush on Sam was dissipating after an intervention with Blaine, and he was in love. Admittedly however, the last one often got him down, particularly on the few occasions he'd seen Blaine outside of school and he was flirting with girls. It probably shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did, considering it was really obvious Blaine wasn't interested in pursing them, but every time he saw it a flash of rage would shoot through him.

Nevertheless, he was actually happy.

. . .

"That Karofsky kid still pickin' on you?" Burt asked over dinner one Friday night.

At the mention of being bullied Red-hot shame flowed up from the pit of Kurt's stomach to his cheeks, making them burn. It wasn't exactly something he could help, but it being brought up in front of Carole and Finn was humiliating. Of course Burt hadn't meant to embarrass him, but that did nothing to alleviate the sting.

Kurt didn't look up at any of them as he shook his head.

In truth Dave had taken to avoiding him as much as possible. On the rare occasions that they did cross paths Kurt's life would be threatened, but no physical harm would occur. At first it had terrified him, then over time the shock wore off and he realized he had the power over Karofsky. The guy was too scared to even look him in the eyes, let alone bring him harm. Kurt actually hadn't seen him in a week or so.

It surprised him when Finn commented, "Kurt could probably take him in the state he's in now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kurt asked curiously. The kid was jacked like an ox and a head taller than Kurt, even Finn wasn't that stupid.

"You don't know?"

"Please Finn, get on with it." Carole said, knowing how easily sidetracked her son could get.

Finn finished swallowing. "He got the crap beat out of him. I'm surprised you don't know. He missed school, then showed up to football practice with two black eyes and a real bad limp. Beiste sent him home."

Burt looked between his sons suspiciously. "You didn't have anything to do with this Kurt?"

"Of course not dad. It obviously wasn't me and I don't know anyone who could have done that."

"What about that Blaine guy? The one you've been hanging around at school." Finn said.

An unpleasant feeling worked in his gut as the blood from his fingers to his toes ran cold and tingly. "What does he have to do with it?" Kurt asked. In truth he already knew. The second that name left Finn's mouth it had clicked.

"The rumor is that he was the one who did it."

An unfamiliar need to defend welled up. "Those are just rumors Finn." He snapped.

Finn meant well, and Kurt knew that he was only sharing what he knew about the Karofsky mystery, but he really wished the boy wouldn't. The last thing that he needed was his dad thinking that his new friend was some crazy delinquent. Regardless of how true it possibly was.

"Who's this Blaine kid?" Burt asked.

"Nobody." Kurt said at the same moment Finn answered, "New Kid, transferred from some detention center in Westerville."

"You don't know that." Kurt said quietly, looking down at his lap.

Nobody paid him much mind, instead they chose to listen to Finn continue around a mouthful of potatoes, "He seems alright though. He's like a modern day Robin Hood."

"Now I'm not condoning violence or revenge," Burt said carefully. "But I do believe in getting what's due. So if that Blaine kid was getting messed with, then Karofsky deserved it."

Kurt's stomach clenched. Knowing Blaine it was revenge, and not just that, it was done in Kurt's name. He couldn't have been defending himself, as far as he knew nobody at school had issues with Blaine, he mostly kept to himself. In fact Kurt was certain he was the only one at the school who'd had an actual conversation with him. A small part of him cheered victoriously that Karofsky got what was coming and from Blaine no less, but his conscience quickly took over and he felt guilty.

"I doubt even Karofsky would be stupid enough to start something with Blaine. I think he's alright, but he keeps to himself and he can be kinda scary. He's intimidating even though he's scrawny and small." Finn grinned. "Like Peter Parker."

Kurt shared a look with Carole.

"I'm still glad someone's standing up those idiots at that school." Burt said.

"I just hope Karofsky gets out of that cast in time to play at championships." Finn sighed.

Burt glanced at Kurt. "I'd feel better with him in it."

The Karofsky-Blaine conversation ended there and the rest of dinner was spent discussing the Titans' chances at the next football game. Happy for the change of subject Kurt even joined in, adding some insight with his limited football knowledge. Burt seemed so pleased by the news that Kurt didn't bother reminding him that David Karofsky was only one of the jocks at McKinley.

* * *

"Hey, Anderson!" An angry voice shouted, thoroughly breaking the peaceful silence.

Blaine briefly glanced up to see who was speaking to him. It was Levi Johnson a varsity lineman on McKinley's football team. He was nearly six feet tall and so broad his shirt stretched tight over his chest revealing huge muscles. At least a head taller than himself too, Blaine noted.

Levi didn't have much of a history in fights outside of wrestling but mostly due to his stature he could undoubtedly stand his ground. Blaine closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree he sat under, hoping this wouldn't end the way it appeared to be going.

Naturally the jock wasn't about to give up so easily. Levi left the group he was with and walked over to Blaine, a nasty scowl on his face. His enormous stature loomed over Blaine's smaller one that was on the ground. Sensing the other boys presence Blaine squinted up at him through one eye, appearing totally unfazed if not a little annoyed.

"You injured Karofsky. We're now a man short for this Friday's game." Levi added the last part as though it clarified anything. When Blaine again said nothing he continued, "I hear you think we should stop messin' with Hummel, that right?"

Blaine tilted his head, suddenly a little more interested in the conversation. Levi, fed up with the lack of aggression from the smaller boy, grabbed Blaine by the collar and pulled him to his feet. "You got anything you want to say for yourself before this gets ugly, Anderson?" The group that Levi had left came over and stood behind him. Most of them were fellow footballers and then there were a few cheerleaders. "We won't touch Hummel. But then we gotta take it out on someone else. Is that what you want, Anderson? Go on, say something." Levi accentuated the last sentence with a rough shove.

Blaine stumbled backward and just managed to catch himself before he fell.

"You think you're a tough guy, gettin' my guy? Prove it!" Levi took a couple of steps backward, his arms splayed at his sides an obvious 'come at me' gesture. His buddies formed a crescent behind him, their faces lit up in malicious anticipation.

"Oh, you're guy? I'm sorry, If I'd known that was your boyfriend..." Blaine shrugged unapologetically.

The smile on Levi's face quickly vanished and was replaced by a scowl. "So he can speak." Behind him his friends chuckled.

Blaine's pulse quickened preparing his body for the imminent fight. He shrugged his jacket off and threw it to the side where his bag sat under the tree. A few curious bystanders approached the boys and soon there was a ring of people surrounding them. From Blaine's perspective all he could see was a sea of Letterman jackets backing up Levi, so he assumed it was the same all around. With a heavy sigh he prayed that he wasn't about to get jumped. Unknown to him there was an even larger group of well-wishers backing him. Several New Direction boys who'd just left football practice were among them. Blaine tuned everyone else out as he watched Levi rip off his own jacket off and toss it to one of his teammates, using the pause to size up and mentally tear down his opponent. With an action plan in mind Blaine carefully rolled his sleeves up.

"This'll be quick." Levi smirked. Blaine silently agreed. "And afterwards I think we will go find Hummel. Teach both of you a lesson."

There was a wave of angry hissing behind Blaine. For the first time Blaine turned around and noticed the New Directions in their own Letterman jackets. Sam, Mike, and Puck were at the front of the crowd, and visible just behind them was a little gap large enough for Artie's wheelchair. All of them were glaring at their counterparts, looking ready to leap into action if need be. Though he didn't know them all too well he knew enough and remembered some things Kurt had said regarding them, and he couldn't help but feel all the more confident.

Blaine heard heavy footfalls and leapt out of the way just in time to dodge a punch aimed at his head.

* * *

"Finn, are you coming?" Kurt asked, stopping a few feet short of his Navigator.

"Hold on." Finn distractedly replied, beginning to walk in the opposite direction of his own car.

Kurt followed. He could hear distant voices from the direction they were walking, but that was all. Being a head taller Finn had the advantage of being able to see across the parking lot that Kurt did not. It wasn't until they were right behind a large crowd of noisy people that he could finally tell what the commotion was about. It was a fight. A rather large one at that.

"Finn, let's go." Kurt insisted, tugging on the taller boy's sleeve. He was ignored.

"Blaine's fighting Levi." Finn said in surprise. Kurt's heart dropped into his stomach. Without thinking he strode forward and attempted to push through the crowd. Finn stopped staring long enough to notice and hold him back.

"Hey! Whoa, slow down." Finn pulled him away and stood firmly between Kurt and the fight. "What are you doing?"

"We need to stop this." Kurt said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Finn clearly didn't see it that way. "_Noooo._" He said emphatically. "Bad idea."

Through a gap Kurt saw Blaine turn around as a fist came flying at his head from behind. Finn stepped in the way right as it happened, blocking his view and causing his anxiety to spike.

"Finn, that's Levi Johnson. He could _kill _Blaine." He said, trying to get Finn to understand.

"And if you get involved that gives the other jocks the okay to come after you, which will get all of us in trouble. It's like the rules of fight club."

Kurt gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look. "That's incredibly stupid."

"We don't even know what happened." Finn said. He did have a point. If they ran in with swords blazing and it turned out Blaine had been aggressor, then that would be really bad.

"Look, just please stay here." He made a heel gesture that in turn made Kurt roll his eyes.

He wasn't a dog, but he stayed nonetheless. Finn was able to easily push his way through the crowd to the front. From where he was Kurt stood on his toes in an attempt to see over some of the taller people. He only saw an unidentified fist fly through the air, and heard the aftermath in the crowd; half cheered loudly and the others groaned sympathetically. Judging by who did what he guessed that Blaine was at least winning. He anxiously tapped his hand against the phone in his pocket.

* * *

Blaine aimed a kick at the back of Levi's knees and took advantage of his loosened grip to slip out of a headlock and get another punch in. Levi was a much bigger guy than what he was used to fighting so it was more of a challenge. He wasn't worried though. The difference between now and all of the other times where he fought some drunken nobody in a parking lot or a dumb jock that had antagonized him was that he now had a reason to fight, there were higher stakes here. In addition to that he was angry, much more so than he could ever remember being. It was invigorating in a way. He spat blood on the ground, then wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He glanced up. Over the crowd a pale, scared looking face stuck out and caught his eye. For the first time he made a deadly mistake by freezing. He paid for it in the form of two hundred pounds crashing into him.

Too dizzy and uncoordinated to aim a proper punch, Levi had charged at Blaine while he'd been distracted and used his full weight to knock him off his feet.

Blaine felt the wind get knocked from his lungs as his feet left the ground. He flew forwards with enough force to propel him into the nearest group of people. Luckily he had the sense to rotate so that his back took the full force rather than landing head first. Due to his position the group had been able to catch him and he landed in the arms of Mike, Puck, and Finn. Blaine groaned and pawed at his aching jaw.

"Kick his ass." He heard the voice of Noah Puckerman from somewhere on his left.

Together the three boys gently but forcefully thrust him back into the makeshift ring. Blaine used the momentum to his advantage and tackled Levi who had his back turned. He wrapped his arms around the boy's neck and then used his weight to send them crashing down. Blaine maneuvered himself on top of the jock and began mercilessly punching wherever he could.

Without stopping he bellowed, "Get Kurt out of here!" in the direction of Kurt's friends. As he said that two more jocks emerged and lunged at Blaine. Together they pulled him off. One held his arms behind his back, while the other wound his fist back. Before the jock's fist could connect with it's target Blaine kicked him in the groin. Sam Evans immediately jumped in to help.

Mike turned to Finn, "You better get Kurt out of here." He said seriously. "If Blaine doesn't hold up, they're coming after him next." Mike then rushed in after Sam.

Artie and Puck watched on helplessly. Puck especially looked uncomfortable at having to stay behind in a fight; it was only his parole keeping him away. A few feet away Sam was punched in the eye and his resolve to stay out of trouble broke; Puck too entered the fray.

It only got more chaotic from there. A few people left. Most of the bystanders who chose not to get any more involved stepped back. The ring of people thinned out grew in circumference as more people joined the fighting.

It was the sound of distant sirens that finally broke the chaos up. Both participants and bystanders scattered. Puck threw in one final blow before retreating and wheeling Artie away. Mike and Sam weren't far behind. Levi had been among the first to retreat, having snuck away while no one was paying attention to him long before the sirens. Finn tried to pull Kurt away but was brushed off. He reluctantly followed Kurt's orders to leave without him.

Besides Blaine Kurt was the last one on the scene. The parking lot was nearly empty and it was completely silent.

He spotted Blaine under a tree, an arm wrapped around the trunk for support. He rushed forward. "Blaine!" He called. When Blaine saw him approaching he began hobbling forward. He only paused to grab Kurt by the wrist when he passed, and didn't let go even after Kurt began following, instead continuing to pull him along.

"What the hell are you still doing here Kurt?" Blaine snapped in a strained voice.

Kurt rolled his eyes. He pulled his arm out of Blaine's grip and wrapped it around the other boy's waist; he pulled one of Blaine's arms around his shoulder to support him. "Saving you." He gestured to the Navigator up ahead. "My car's right there."

He quickly helped Blaine into the passenger before hopping into the driver's side.

"_Shit._" Blaine groaned. "I left my stuff."

Kurt spun the car around and sped across the parking lot. He slammed on the brakes and jumped back out, then sprinted over to the tree and grabbed Blaine's jacket and bag. He froze for a fraction of a second and listened to the approaching sirens. He got back in the car and the door hadn't even been shut when his slammed his foot down on the gas. The Navigator sped into the neighborhood across from the school. There he parallel parked at the nearest curb and turned off the car. Blaine remained in a silent state of shock as Kurt jerked the passenger seat back into a horizontal position, then ducked against the steering wheel so that neither of them could be seen from the outside. Seconds later two cop cars zoomed past them and pulled into the school.

Blaine looked across the center console at Kurt. The older boy had his eyes closed and his forehead on top of the steering wheel; his hands clutched the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. A minute later Kurt reached over and pressed the button to bring the passenger seat and Blaine back up, then sat back in his own seat. He calmly started the car then pulled out and drove past McKinley. While Blaine watched the policemen searching the area, Kurt's eyes didn't once leave the road until they reached the main street.

"Where do you live?" Kurt asked calmly, startling Blaine. Blaine gave him the address when he finally regained the ability to speak. "I can give you a ride in the morning so you can get your bike." Kurt told him.

Blaine shook his head. "No need. I walked to school today."

They came upon a red light and Kurt took the opportunity to stare at him. "Blaine, that's almost seven miles."

"I needed to clear my head." Each word was said with increasing frustration. "What the hell were you thinking back there? _Both _of us could've been caught." It felt strange being the responsible one considering the circumstances.

"We got away didn't we? And now there's no evidence."

Blaine snorted. "Except JBI's blog and numerous YouTube videos."

Kurt sighed and continued driving.

Today had been one of those instances that Kurt go reacquainted with Blaine's rep. It was too easy to forget that Blaine had the bad boy persona going on when dreaminess and charm shone out his ears; then again, those characteristics were probably why he rocked it so hard.

He glanced at Blaine. Even slumped back in his seat with eyes closed he looked gorgeous.

Kurt didn't look it, but on the inside he felt like passing out. Over the course of about ten minutes his status of baby penguin had been blacked out and changed to accomplice. Sure, he hadn't actually been the one in a fight, but he did drive the getaway car and then hide from the police. None of this ever would have happened had he not been put next to Blaine Anderson in class. He could only hope that it wouldn't become a regular thing.

Twenty awkward minutes later the Navigator pulled into the cracked driveway of an older two story house. Kurt was surprised by how well kept up it was. Naturally, the white paint was peeling and there were rusty patches on the front porch's railing as was expected from a house that appeared to have been built before the sixties. Unlike its neighbors however, the lawn was recently mowed and the foliage around the house was in full bloom as opposed to wilted. Compared to the surrounding neighborhood the house was actually quite nice.

Kurt was snapped out of his thoughts by Blaine's door slamming. Blaine walked to the front of the car and watched Kurt expectantly. Kurt hesitantly opened his own door and stepped out. Blaine rolled his eyes and motioned for him to follow. Kurt awkwardly walked up the drive.

Blaine Anderson was inviting him into his home. Something about this seemed so much more personal than if it was anyone else's house. Maybe it was because Blaine was such an enigma at school, or it could have been the nagging feeling that this wasn't a normal occurrence. For some reason he just couldn't get it out of his head.

"As your champion don't you think you owe me a few minutes of your time?" Blaine teased, turning to Kurt with comically raised eyebrows. When Kurt remained unsure he added, "Come on, live a little."

"Um, I don't -"

Blaine opened the door without a key; it hadn't even been locked. "Relax Hummel, I'm not a serial killer."

"That's exactly what one would say." Kurt muttered.

Somewhere inside the house he heard Blaine chuckle and say, "Nothing gets past you."

Kurt paused on the porch with the door held open in front of him. He glanced back at his car, momentarily considering running away like a coward. Blaine was already at the other end of the house so he wouldn't notice until Kurt was already gone.

Kurt bit his lip.

A conversation in the choir room earlier about him talking to Blaine made him the slightest bit doubtful. For a moment he wondered what his friends would think about him actually being friends with someone like Blaine, someone who came to school hung over and got in fights. After all they had freaked out about them just sitting together in class. Then he remembered the past month. When he thought of that Blaine was just Blaine again.

Even with that, he was still nervous about being in Blaine's house. Walking into any other acquaintances' house wouldn't mean a thing, but it seemed very private when it came to Blaine Anderson, like an honor that he alone had been presented with. It was a strange feeling.

_This is silly._ Kurt thought.

It really was silly. Plus he felt guilty for letting the air out while he stood there having a moral crisis.

He stepped inside and shut the door. Past the front door a short narrow hallway cut off to the right into the living room. It was surprising how homely the place was. Kurt didn't know what he'd been expecting. He felt even sillier when the Earth's core didn't explode and volcanoes didn't erupt. Once the relief passed, he felt ashamed. How could he have considered running off? Especially when Blaine had just been injured in a fight defending him.

Kurt followed his ears down the hall, through a small living room, and into an even smaller kitchen. Blaine was standing at a sink, running a washcloth under steaming water. Blaine wrung it out then gently pressed it to the side of his neck, hissing in pain when it made contact with his skin. He turned around and Kurt's eyes were drawn to a steady drip of blood streaming from his nose.

"You're bleeding." Kurt said weakly. After staring like an idiot for a full ten seconds he regained the ability to think and rushed over, taking the rag from Blaine. "Head back." He ordered.

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose and tipped his head back. Kurt rinsed the bloodied rag until it was no longer stained red but a pinkish color. After years of dealing with the aftermath of bullies and a few months of cleaning up some of Finn's injuries he was no longer squeamish when it came to blood and other bodily fluids. He figured if his big Broadway dreams didn't work out there was always the medical field. Carole would be pleased to hear that.

He brought the cloth back up to Blaine's face and gently dabbed at the dried blood on his chin. Blaine shifted the hand that was still stifling the blood flow out of the way so that Kurt could get his upper lip. Kurt continued until he was satisfied that he'd gotten everything. At that point the nosebleed had slowed to a halt. Kurt rinsed off the rag then handed it back to Blaine to wipe his nose off himself.

Blaine turned his head and Kurt noticed the oddly shaped gash on his neck. Without thinking he brushed his fingers against it. Blaine flinched making him yank his hand back.

"How did that happen?" He wondered aloud.

"The jackass was wearing a ring. It got me when he grabbed me."

Kurt's face fell. "I'm sorry."

Blaine stared at him looking perplexed. "You didn't do anything."

"Levi wouldn't have come after you if you didn't go after Karofsky first," Kurt pointed out. "And-"

"And _I_ wouldn't have touched Karofsky if he had an ounce of self control." Blaine countered.

Blaine seemed to have this ridiculous notion that he had taken on the role of Kurt's body guard. The way he spoke of bullies and vengeance one might think he was a superhero. It was almost sweet, but then Kurt didn't want to see himself as the damsel in distress.

"You can't get even with every wrongdoer in the world."

"I can try. Haven't you noticed the decrease in McKinley's crime rate?" Blaine let out a weak attempt at a chuckle that turned into a fit of coughs.

"I suppose you think that has something to do with you."

Blaine grinned and crossed his arms. "Well I am like a modern day Robin Hood."

A peal of laughter burst from Kurt's mouth. "You heard Finn say that didn't you?"

Blaine looked up in thought. "Tina, actually. It was cute."

Blaine threw the bloodied rag in the sink, then walked into the living room. Kurt followed until Blaine plopped down on the sofa, then he hesitated.

Blaine noticed and said, "Don't stop talking now, I was having fun."

Kurt awkwardly sat down on the other end of the couch.

"So you're a sophomore and you live all by yourself?"

"I do have a roommate."

Kurt frowned in confusion.

Blaine lifted his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. "Cooper!" He called.

A beautiful golden retriever appeared at the top of the stairs and bounded down. The dog trotted over to Blaine and nuzzled her head into his hand affectionately. Kurt scooted closer to them and held out a hand for the dog to sniff. Cooper immediately licked it, wagging her tail contently. Kurt took it as a good sign and ran his other hand along her back.

"She's gorgeous."

Blaine smiled. "Thank you. She's not actually mine, not completely. Her owner's school doesn't allow pets so she's here for the school year."

Kurt continued petting Cooper, trying to ignore the fuzzy feeling in his stomach that completely had to do with the boy next to him.

"Come on, ask questions." Blaine said after a few minutes of quiet. "I know you're dying to."

Kurt looked up at him. The question he was truly dying to ask probably wasn't the most appropriate one so he went with, "Why did you walk all the way to school today? I know you said you needed to clear your head, but seven miles? That's a lot of thinking."

The expression on Blaine's face in response to that particular question was genuine bafflement, like he'd been expecting something more complicated. "To be honest my bike hasn't been working right for weeks now. Then the other day the engine gave out."

"I could take you." Kurt said without a second thought.

"What?"

"To school. I could give you a ride and then when I drop you off I could take a look at your bike, see if I can't fix it."

At the offer Blaine looked taken aback, as well as very skeptical. So it was surprising when he accepted the offer with a simple, "Okay."

Unsure what else to say, Kurt repeated, "Okay."


End file.
